


Bedside Manner

by lost_spook



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Meme, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6987367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m dying.” (Six + Peri)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedside Manner

**Author's Note:**

> Written for romanajo123 in an LJ prompt meme.

“Nonsense,” the Doctor said. “Never heard such rampant piffle in my life.”

Peri closed her eyes. Even if she wasn’t dying, she felt like she was. She’d never been so ill before. She shivered, first hot and then cold, never quite comfortable: too weak to sit or stand or even just lie there, and her heart kept beating irregularly as if it was panicking as much as she was. The virus was eating up whatever strength she had, that was for sure. “Doctor, I want the truth.”

“It is,” he said, helping her sit up against the rolled up fur that was acting as a pillow. There was another that was currently serving as a sort of mattress on top of the bench and he’d thrown his coat over her as a covering. She hung onto it, not wanting it to fall off. Apart from feeling cold, much as she hated it, it was also kind of reassuring suddenly, like a symbol in the middle of this grey and brown world that everything was going to be all right, despite how bad it seemed.

“I’ve stewed a few of those alaela leaves you were looking at earlier,” he said, and she frowned, because he sounded a bit edgy to her. “Now, drink up, it’ll do you the world of good.”

“Is it safe?”

The Doctor’s steadying hand on her shoulder tightened slightly. “Nothing’s safe, Peri, but if it works, it’ll give your body the chance to fight off this infection without interference. Exactly what you need just now.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“It _will_ work, I promise. But there is a chance that the healing coma could be permanent. However, that is an infinitesimal risk compared to the very real possibility that this fever will be the end of you in a few hours if you don’t.”

“Told you I was dying.”

“Yes, and if you do, I shall carve that on your gravestone for you, but I don’t believe there’ll be any need. Come on, Peri. You’re not going to get better if you don’t do what your Doctor tells you.”

Peri let him bring the rough cup to her lips and then nearly choked on the liquid. “It’s vile. I think I’d rather be dead!”

“Peri,” said the Doctor, at his most reproachful.

She drank it.

 

Peri woke again to find herself back in the TARDIS and while she was still distinctly wobbly if she tried to move too fast, she at least felt like a human being again. When she pushed herself up against the pillows, she turned and saw the Doctor, sitting in the chair next to her.

“Ah,” he said. “You made it. I was beginning to wonder – after all, if there’s anyone I’ve ever known who’d die just to prove her point, it would be you.”

“Hey.” 

“Happily, however,” the Doctor added, “it turns out you’re as tough as old boots.” He put a hand to her cheek and then smiled at her, softening the insult.

She gave him a smile in return, grateful right now that he was every bit as stubborn and argumentative and determined not to lose as she was. It wasn’t the first time it had worked in her favour. “Thanks, Doc. I owe you.”


End file.
